


Real

by mattzerella_sticks



Series: Season 15 Inspired [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breakfast, Brotherly Bonding, Coda, Confessions, Cute Castiel/Dean Winchester, Cute Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Destiel Anthropologist Sam Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Dean Winchester, F/M, M/M, Perceptive Sam Winchester, Post-Episode: s15e09 The Trap, Supportive Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22371136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: Coda to 15x09 "The Trap"Morning after, and Sam spies a little something blossoming in the kitchen. Something that stokes the fires of his curiosity. When the scene ends, he walks in with an intent to investigate. Learn about the strange magic that happened before his eyes. How quickly Dean and Cas's relationship repaired. And what brilliant new shape it took on after Purgatory.Will Sam be satisfied with the answer?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Series: Season 15 Inspired [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1517543
Comments: 5
Kudos: 163





	Real

**Author's Note:**

> So I loooooooved "The Trap". The only complaint I had was... it was TOO GOOD.
> 
> Seriously, I was struggling to come up with an idea for a coda.
> 
> In the end, I chose this :P Hope y'all enjoy!

Sam hung back, hidden in the shadows. Content in letting the coffee cool in its pot to watch the scene unfolding in the kitchen. Assured that his entrance would interrupt the strange dance happening. Like stumbling upon two deer in the woods, a sudden sound would send them running. Where he stands, Sam can observe Dean and Castiel in undisturbed splendor.

They gravitate towards each other, an invisible string tugging them closer no matter how far one moves. Castiel hovers over Dean while he makes breakfast. He asks for ingredients, and the angel silently gathers them. Handing them over, sometimes their fingers brushing up against each other. Going out of their way to do so – Dean sliding into the milk’s handle while Castiel doesn’t let go until a healthy beat passed.

It’s a refreshing sight. Before Sam ran off with Eileen, wrangling either into a room in which the other already waited took an infinite amount of patience. When they did occupy the same space, both men stood on opposite sides. Waiting for a bell to ring.

“Seriously,” Sam said to Dean one night, “Why won’t you talk to him?”

“Because I got nothing to say.”

“Clearly that’s not the case.”

“Will you drop it?” Dean sighed, wiping down his gun for the seventh time, preparing to take it apart for the eighth. “What’s between me and Cas is between me and Cas…”

Sam rolled his eyes. “And why can’t you tell me?”

“Because,” he dropped the gun, rubbing his cheek. Uncaring to the grease stain slashed across his skin. “Because you wouldn’t get it, okay? Please… drop it.”

He tried talking about it a few other times after that, but Dean deftly avoided the topic. And now, with how their friendship looks, Sam will never get his answer. A price to pay for one good thing to come from the fiasco of the past twenty-four hours.

Movement in the kitchen draws him from his thoughts. Dean turned, quite suddenly, startling a frozen Castiel. Their chests bumped against each other, the pan of scrambled eggs barely surviving the slackness of Dean’s grip. His hold tightens, and Dean steps away. Enough for a piece of paper to slip between them.

Sam squints, leaning forward to better understand the shift.

Dean’s mouth parted open; his gaze locked on Castiel’s. Not strange except for the way the fluorescent lights hit him. Like they unlocked a secret that left Dean in a daze. His chest rises and falls, tapping at Castiel’s tie.

Castiel, however, remains calm. Fractures in this façade show, but he won’t fall under the same spell that enraptured Dean.

He steps to the side. “Your breakfast will get cold.”

Shadows crest and absorb the light, returning Dean to his senses. “Right,” he chuckles, “Thanks, Cas…” They walk towards the table, Dean sitting. Castiel stands at his side. “I know you don’t have to eat but you can sit if you want?”

Castiel shrugs, arms stiff at his sides. “I was thinking… of going for a drive,” he says, not looking down at his brother. “For a little bit, to get some fresh air. I wouldn’t be long.”

Dean sets his fork down, facing forward so all Sam sees is the back of his head. “Really?” he asks, voice terribly level. Sam pictures the haunting smoothness across his face, nary a wrinkle of sadness. “You want to go?”

“Maybe pop into town?”

“…Town?”

“Re-stock,” Castiel says, “I noticed that there’s hardly anything left in your fridge that would satisfy either you or your brother…”

Dean’s head twitches. “I did use up the last of the eggs…” His hands drop, one tapping at the table while the other digs into his robe pocket. “Okay,” he says, “Yeah… yeah, we need things. If you’re going though, take her.”

Baby’s keys dangle above Dean’s head like mock mistletoe. Both Castiel and Sam’s eyes widen at the gift. Now Dean won’t meet his stare. “Dean,” Castiel starts, “you want me to –“

“I doubt we’re going anywhere today,” Dean tells him, “And I like to get her out at least once every day. Besides… I trust you with her.”

Intently, Sam watches Castiel’s hand reach for the keys. Drifting slower than molasses, until in a blink he snatches them. Brings them to his chest in a soft reverence. “This means a lot to me, Dean,” he says, “… thank you.”

Dean waves him off, digging into his eggs. “You get a scratch on her and you’re paying for it.”

“I’ll be careful.” Castiel, with his other hand, swings it wide towards an unidentifiable goal. Only it never lands, awkwardly circling until it lands at his side. “Thank you.” He shuffles away, over to the other exit.

“Cas,” Dean calls when the angel reaches the doorjamb. He pauses, turning slightly. Waiting for him to continue. His brother drags their silence into oblivion, like he forgot what he meant to say. “Just,” he sighs, “Come back?”

Castiel smiles, “Of course.” He leaves, blinking from existence as if he flapped his wings and tore through reality. Really his footfalls carry him down the hallway while they echo in the glaring absence.

Sam waits an appropriate amount of time to walk in. Long enough for the air to return to his lungs and for his brain to function at a higher level. Not repeating ‘what was that’ on a loop. He attempts casualness, shuffling to the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup. Dean grunts, sliding the sugar over when Sam sits opposite him. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Dean says, shoveling more food into his mouth. Flecks flying, nearly landing in his coffee if his hand weren’t shielding it.

“Hey,” Sam sips at his drink, sliding his thumb around the rim. “Good night’s sleep?”

Dean huffs. “Tossed and turned all night.”

“Really? What for?”

“What about you?” he asks instead, “How was your night?”

Sam sighs, rolling his eyes. “Good enough. Couldn’t really get to sleep either until Eileen texted.”

“She get to wherever she was going safely?”

“Yeah, she pulled over at some motel in Oklahoma,” he tells Dean, sliding his phone open, “really creepy place… each room had their own personal diorama of movie scenes, but all the actors were stuffed squirrels.” Sam snorts, showing Dean the Pulp Fiction recreation with the dead squirrels dressed like Uma Thurman and John Travolta.

Dean winces, “I hope she got a good deal on the room.”

“Forty-five dollars for one night.”

“That is good.”

Sam sets his phone to the side, stiffening in his seat. “So… have you seen Cas?” he asks, broaching the subject.

If bothered, Dean won’t show it. He spears a piece of egg and eats. Chewing, “He went out.”

“Out?” Sam continues, “Out where?”

“Supply run. Wanted to make sure we were… _well fed_.” Dean smirks, chuckling, “Don’t know what that means though. If he goes overboard, I doubt he’ll have enough on him to cover the bill.”

Sam smirks, “If he needs anything, he can use the emergency credit card you keep in the glovebox.” Gulping down some more coffee, Sam almost misses the shock that jolts his brother’s body. “What?” In the next minute, he realizes what he said. “Shit.”

“How do you know,” Dean asks, whispering, “how do you know Cas took Baby?” His tone pointed and sharp like an angel’s blade, pressed dangerously close to his neck. Giving him no leeway to wiggle free.

But Sam wouldn’t want to use an excuse anyway. Instead he swallows his nerves and relaxes. “I saw you give your keys to him.”

The fork clatters to the plate, Dean more concerned with other things. Like reigning in his eyes so they don’t shoot from his head with how wide they’re stretching open. Or biting on his lip and swallowing the stream of curses threatening to leak. “Is that,” he whispers, “Is that all you saw?” Sam can’t answer in a way that won’t upset him. Silence paints a pretty good picture. “Christ… you want to maybe get your kicks elsewhere?”

“Hey,” Sam says, “I wasn’t… I didn’t know what I was looking at for awhile and when I did I… didn’t want to interrupt.” He reaches forward and squeezes Dean’s shoulder. “You and Cas are doing well, I didn’t realize it until now.”

“Probably because it was, uh…” Dean trails off, hands heavy and awkward on the table, “it’s a recent thing.”

“It is?”

“Purgatory,” Dean shrugs. “We sort of… hashed out most of our stuff there.”

Nodding, Sam smirks. “Guess there’re more important things to worry about when you’re stuck in a place, surrounded by monsters at all sides.” His comment can’t elicit the reaction he expects. Scoffing, followed by an assurance of Dean’s aptitude facing off an army of creatures that nervousness didn’t blip his radar when returning to Purgatory.

Instead Dean stepped away, mentally. Physically his body remained with Sam. But the haziness clogging his gaze signals to Sam that no one mans the controls. Left on autopilot, Dean slowly rubs his forefinger across the table.

Sam leans back, studying Dean. Drinks the rest of his coffee while sifting through his thoughts. Bouncing from one after another in his quest to understand the mystery waiting for him this morning. Clues like their ironic closeness. Within reach but separated by the thinnest layers of cellophane. And weighted stares that held more meaning than any of their others. Baby’s keys and Purgatory.

“Dean,” Sam snaps his fingers, startling the other man from his trance, “you good?”

He shakes his head, blinking. “Sorry… guess I’m still a little sleepy –“

“What happened in Purgatory?”

Pouting, Dean speaks to his plate. “Went in. Got the flower. Left with little time to spare.”

Sam arches a brow. “That’s all?”

“Found out Benny died.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to do that, Sammy,” Dean sighs, “I know you weren’t always his biggest fan…”

He winces, pushing his coffee to the side. “Yeah,” he says, “but he was your friend. I might not be all that sorry he’s dead, but I know that must’ve hit hard for you. Especially since he chose to make the trek back.” Sam won’t admit how he figured Benny had been dead for a while. In his effort to convert him into a supporter, Dean told Sam how the vampire hunted his own kin. Going to Purgatory after that wouldn’t make for a warm reception.

“I wish we could’ve seen him,” Dean says, “maybe seen his bones or something… actually confirm the Leviathan bastard was telling the truth. Would hate if, out of all the lies he shat, that little nugget ended up being true.”

“Leviathan?”

Dean nods, “Our guide. Led us to the flower we needed… and into a trap.” While recounting the tale, Sam listens and curses Chuck. For sending his brother and best friend on a pointless errand. For showing him what happens after the story ends, assuring the game continues. For disappointing the others with his choice. “…I wandered for so long,” Dean says, drawing Sam from his anger, “Couldn’t find any trace of Cas and –“ His voice cuts off, thick and wet. A tear slips free in front of Sam, caught halfway across his cheek. Pools of them balance dangerously in his eyes, the wounds fresh and painful. It doesn’t surprise him. Except Dean never dropped his guard so suddenly.

Unless overpowered by the strength of his feelings.

“And it all clicked that my posturing was so – so stupid,” he continues, “too late, though. I thought it came to me too late. Standing in the woods I did what I could and… apologized. To the trees…” Head bowed, Dean’s lip trembles. “That must’ve been it, though. Because the next thing I know, I find Cas huddled near the portal and I never felt more relieved in my life.” Chuckling, he slides his plate to the side. “Probably a reward from Chuck for putting on a good show.”

Sam ignores the jab. “When you found him, did you apologize again?”

“What?”

“An apology only works if the person hears it, Dean,” Sam says, “Is that what you’re still trying to do? Apologize? Because I know you can do it to his face…”

Dean chews on his lip. “No, I… I wanted to,” he tells Sam, “I tried to but… Cas heard it. Of course he did… I hoped he did. _Prayed_ that he would.”

“Oh…” Stiffly, Sam shifts in his seat. Unsure of which direction to take their conversation, no clues left to guide him. “So if he heard you… did he accept it?”

“He did.”

“Then why are you two still acting…” A tidal wave of words wash over him, the only one Sam manages to catch is, “ _weird_?”

He scoffs. “I thought you were happy we weren’t sulking like toddlers anymore?”

“I am, but…” Sam purses his lips, fiddling with the cup of coffee back in his hands. “you sure he accepted everything? I don’t know… to me – outsider’s perspective or whatever – there’s something not clicking. Sure you two are _around_ each other but it’s all… it’s _different_.”

With how Dean closes himself off, Sam guesses he hit a sore spot. He scratches his wrist, arms crossed over his chest. Body turned like if he tried to peel away any more layers and callouses Dean would bolt. Although his gaze stays locked with Sam’s. A tether that hints a willingness. An eagerness to break past difficult walls.

“You can tell me, Dean,” Sam whispers, “Always. Whatever it is.”

“I…” Dean starts, croaking. Clearing his throat, he says again. “I… There were things that I said… and things that-that weren’t. Felt kind of foolish not having the courage to dump it all since I wasn’t sure if Cas would… Anyway, when I saw Cas it-it bubbled back up. I _wanted_ to tell him what I couldn’t. I almost said it… and Cas told me I didn’t need to. That he knew.”

“Did he know?”

“It looked like he did. I could see it in how he carried himself and-and the way his eyes softened around the edges… but a heaviness remained around his mouth that… that got me worried.”

Sam feels the last piece of the puzzle falling into place. “What did you want to tell him?”

Dean scrubs his hand over his mouth, then laces his fingers together in his lap. “That every time I let him go… it was because I didn’t think I deserved him. Like it wasn’t right for me to have someone like him in my life. He deserved better than me, than what I could offer. Than my love.”

The confession knocks all the wind out of him. Sam slumps over the table, gawking. “Wow…”

Flushed, Dean snarls, “But he obviously doesn’t feel the same. So get that look of your face.”

Quickly Sam fixes his expression into something more appropriate. “What?” he asks.

“Cas doesn’t feel the same.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because I do!” Nonplussed, Sam waits for his brother to elaborate. “Because… because if he did, don’t you think he would have said something by now? Or he would have… would have done something?”

“Did he say his feelings aren’t like that?”

“I just told you –“

“No, Dean,” Sam cuts him off, “seriously, did Cas ever tell you that he doesn’t return your love?” Dean’s fiddling thumbs answer him. “You’re overthinking this.”

“First time I’ve heard _that_ –“

“Shove it, Dean,” Sam says, “Enough wallowing. Thinking that you aren’t good enough because you _are_. After all we’ve been through, we deserve our happiness. If Cas is it for you than don’t give him up without getting a clear answer.”

Dean sighs, “But he said he already knew what I said.”

“You said you didn’t mention it in your apology!”

“The intent was there though,” he says, “and Cas can sense that sort of stuff anyway… I’m pretty sure –“

“You’re pretty sure you have no idea,” Sam says, “And you _won’t_ know unless you actually talk to him about it. Don’t take the easy out…”

“Easy for you to preach about all this love and junk,” Dean glowers, walls rebuilding around him, “Eileen gets dropped into your lap and you think you can make everyone have a happy ending? Those aren’t real, Sam.”

“Of course they’re not,” he says, “but we are. What’s between me and Eileen… that’s real. And the same can be said about yours and Cas’s relationship. All of that is real, Dean. We can’t let doubt or-or Chuck creep in and ruin it. In the end, these are our choices to make.” Sam stands, “What choice are you going to make? Will you be happy with it?”

He knows his answer. Walking away, Sam hopes Dean knows, too.

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? Let me know by dropping a kudos/comment below!


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